Duskwood Daliance
by QuietToAFault
Summary: A human rogue saves an orc warrior, then takes him to her hut in Duskwood. Rated M for sexual content.


AN: Hello friends! It's been a long time since my last story. This one has new characters and is more story with a small feature of smut. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

As the moon rose higher into the sky, Agent Olivia Harris adjusted the scope on her goggles to compensate for the soft light. She was hidden in a tree within Westfall, observing inhabitants of a town called Moonbrook. Since the great Cataclysm had shaken Azeroth to its very core, odd things seemed to keep happening, and here was no exception. An uprising might well be underway, what with food scarce and people's homes destroyed. Liv was surprised there weren't riots in Stormwind already.

The agent was tall for a human woman with a body as strong as it was lithe. Her long black hair was kept back in a ponytail tied with a leather thong. Her face was slim with high cheekbones, full lips, and a chin that hinted at stubbornness. Scars of varying age and size were peppered across her calloused hands, arms, and even some on her torso, hinting at a life spent mastering knife-fighting. The dark leathers she wore were high quality and well looked after, the material making not a sound even as she shifted against the tree's brittle bark. Her goggles, intricately crafted, let out a few muted clicks as she adjusted them again, getting a closer look at the town square. It had been a quiet, boring night so far, but she figured it would be just her luck that something terrible would happen if she decided to take a nap during her watch.

A noise somewhere behind her made her stiffen. There were no creatures in this part of the world that could kill her at her full strength, but she didn't care for a fight that would blow her cover. Reaching into a belt pouch, she produced a vial of tranquilizing poison and carefully moved around to the other side of the tree, keeping close to the trunk so she might not be spotted. What she saw made her hesitate. About fifty yards away, a bulky shape staggered towards her tree, a large hand gripping its side as if it were injured. A group of hyenas slowly circled the figure, their bone-crushing teeth bared hungrily as they observed their injured prey. Liv saw the glint of steel in the moonlight as the figure, presumably a warrior, swung its axe with one hand in an attempt to keep the animals back. One leapt on the figure from behind, jaws opened wide for the kill, and promptly dropped with a poison-tipped needle embedded in its neck. The others soon fell in the same manner, paws twitching in the air as the tranquilizing poison took effect, putting them all to sleep.

Liv carefully corked her poison vial and put it back in her belt pouch, then watched the bulky figure collapse in the dry grass. She hesitated, chewing on her lower lip and thinking. The poison would keep the hyenas asleep for half an hour, at most, and she didn't think the injured person would recover before then and make it to safety. Could she risk leaving her recon mission to save this mystery person?

Healing was not her forte. When she was a child, her parents tried to teach her how to mend wounds with healing light, but she could never so much as produce a spark. Instead, her talents lay in disassembling complicated gadgets just to see how they worked, then re-assembling them just to see if she could. After that came picking locks to get into places she wasn't allowed, crafting small bombs to create diversions, and learning how to hide in the shadows so none but the most observant would ever notice her. Her father was a paladin and her mother a priestess, both preferring to heal rather than harm. They had never directly said they were disappointed of their youngest daughter, but neither did they act proud when they discovered her collection of ears, taken from her victims.

Still, her mother was a healer and had taught her as much healing a non-magical person could learn, and Liv knew exactly what she'd say if she knew her daughter had abandoned one in need in favor of watching some peasant town where nothing was happening. Cursing under her breath, she dropped nimbly from the tree and raced across the grass, her leather boots silent against the hard ground. When she was ten feet away, she halted and stared at her would-be patient. The bare arms that lay at odd angles from the fallen warrior's body were unmistakably green and were far larger than any human's arms. They were larger even than a draenei's, and they were perhaps the largest race of the Alliance.

One of the hyenas twitched, and the rogue made a split-second decision. Digging in another belt pouch, she produced a small metal cube and tossed it onto the ground nearby. Instantly, it began to grow and morph until it turned into a motorbike with a sidecar that would have normally carried her supplies. Now, she hauled the unconscious orc into it with much straining and grunting, her muscles screaming under the warrior's weight. At last, he and his axe were secured, and she was driving them well away from the scavengers, and away from Moonbrook.

* * *

Dawn came, but it hardly mattered in the small Duskwood cabin. True to its name, the area seemed to be in constant night, making it the perfect place to hide. Liv didn't think the patrols would investigate this far away from Darkshire, but she had the door bolted and the two windows shuttered just in case. The cabin was a tiny, one-room structure with enough space for a bed, a hearth, a small table and chair, and a workspace covered in gears, bits of metal, and vials filled with many different liquids. They were somewhere between Raven Hill and the Westfall border, an area seldom visited due to the ghouls that were known to lurk there. Liv had domesticated a handful, in a sense. She provided them with raw meat whenever she visited her hideout, and in return they didn't eat her. It was a fair arrangement, in her mind.

The orc warrior lay atop her bed, his armor set aside and his ragged shirt stripped from his upper body. She'd stitched several wounds on his torso, then slathered them with a healing balm that would stave off infection. Wrapping the wounds had been difficult, since the orc was so large and she needed to wind the bandage completely around him to accomplish the task. In the end, she'd used a winch normally used in repairing her motorbike to lift him just far enough to fit her hand under him, then she'd settled him back onto the too-small bed and covered him as much as she could with a faded quilt. Once she was relatively certain she'd tended to all his wounds, she set about making a stew, using supplies she kept in a small trunk by the fireplace. Into a pot went dried noodles, herbs, spices, beans, chunks of meat, and what vegetables she happened to have on hand. It wouldn't be a stew that would impress anyone, but it would be filling

As she stirred, she talked to the unconscious orc as if he were awake and could understand Common speech. "It's a good thing I happened to be there," she told him, eyes on the bubbling liquid. "If I hadn't, you would be hyena dung. A warrior, even one who fights for the Horde, deserves a better death." Setting her spoon aside, she rubbed her eyes tiredly. Once she'd gotten them both inside and got the fire lit, she'd taken off her goggles. Her eyes, though tired, were green with a glint that was both wicked and mischievous. They seemed to catch every detail, and despite her tiredness, they noticed when the orc shifted on her bed, then grabbed his axe and lunged.

Liv slid out of the way easily - the orc's aim was sloppy with how weak he was - and plucked the axe from his grip. "Now stop that," she scolded, backing away when he tried to snatch the weapon back. "If you keep moving around like that, you'll rip your stitches! Get back in bed!" The orc stared at her with stunningly blue eyes, their depths filled with confusion and mistrust. Still, the human pointed firmly at the bed, which still had piles of fresh bandages next to it. He said something in the guttural Orcish language, his voice hoarse and cracking. Sighing with exasperation, Liv set the axe aside and gently pushed him back towards the bed, avoiding his hurts. The orc let himself be guided, then sat down with enough force to make the bed frame groan and collapse under his weight.

The woman rested a hand on her face for a moment, but she was too tired to be angry just then. "Light help me. Just...just stay there." She held her hand out in the same motion she would use to tell her dogs back home to stay, then gestured at the stew. The orc's eyes flicked to the bubbling liquid, and Liv heard his stomach growl. How long had it been since he'd eaten last? He looked like he'd been fighting and fleeing for hours before she'd found him, losing blood all the while. Doubtless he'd be ravenous. Thirsty, too, by the sound of his voice.

Going back to her food chest, she eyed what bottles and skins of drinks she had. "Let's see...I have some port, but that's probably too sweet for you. And...oh Light, I forgot I had Kungaloosh. That would likely burn a hole in your stomach. How about some plain old ale?" She grabbed the skin and handed it to him. "It tastes like piss, but it might help with the pain." The orc unstoppered the skin and sniffed its contents suspiciously. Liv rolled her eyes, feeling quite tired and grumpy by now. "I wouldn't have gone through the trouble of healing you if I meant to poison you, dolt." As she returned to the stew, she heard him gulping down the ale with vigor.

Judging that the stew was thick enough, she ladled some into a bowl and handed it to him before serving herself. The orc watched until she took a bite, perhaps to make sure she hadn't poisoned the food either, then noisily devoured his bowlful. Before she'd finished even half her bowl, he was holding his out as if asking for seconds. Three more times she filled his bowl before the pot was completely empty and he seemed to be sated, at least for now. "I never noticed how much orcs eat," she observed, stacking their dirty dishes to be tended to later, when she could make it to the river. "I suppose to be that large, you must eat large." The orc merely looked at her curiously, and she flapped her hand in dismissal as if to say "don't worry about it". At least now he seemed to know she was trying to help him, not kill him.

The orc shifted to lay down again. He was taller than Liv by a head and a half with a wide and heavily muscled form. Like her, his skin was littered with blade scars, but his were much larger, as if from swords and axes instead of the thin daggers she used. He had a wide jaw with a full lower lip and thin upper, parted by two large lower teeth that ended in sharp points. His nose was flat and broad, his brow was strong, but those blue eyes held complexity. Liv knew orcs weren't unintelligent, but her opinion of them was generally very low. Part of her had expected to see a dull glaze over his eyes, much like that of an overworked, underfed horse. Instead, she saw curiosity, intelligence, and an odd searching look, as if he were trying to understand her.

"Don't bother trying to figure me out," she told him tiredly, digging out the bedroll she used mainly for sleeping outside. She set it up on the opposite side of the small house, putting as much space between them as she could. "Plenty of people have tried and failed, and they actually spoke my language. You don't have a chance, my buck." She kicked off her boots and settled in her bedroll, folding her hands over her ribs. "If you mean to kill me, at least do it quietly so you don't wake me up."

She heard a low chuckle from the bed as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

When she woke, the first thing she noticed was the smell of cooking meat. Cracking an eye open, she saw the orc kneeling by the hearth, poking a haunch of something on a small spit. Liv didn't recognize what animal the meat was from, but the smell was pleasant enough. Yawning hugely, she stretched and sat up to find the orc watching her, that same odd look in his eyes. She returned his gaze with a grumpy one of her own. "Will you stop staring at me like I have two heads? I'm not the only human who knows first aid, you know."

The orc responded with a string of syllables that made no sense to the rogue. Perhaps he'd said something like, "no, but not many humans would save an orc." Liv redid her ponytail and stood. "Perhaps that's true, but my mother raised me to help those in need." Grabbing the lone chair in the small cabin, she dragged it close to the fire and sat, propping her elbows on her legs and her chin on her hands. For a moment, she watched the meat drip grease into the fire, then she decided they might as well at least know each other's names.

Sitting up, she got his attention and gestured to herself. "I'm Liv."

"The orc tilted his head to one side. "Imliv?" he asked.

Smiling despite herself, the woman shook her head and tried again. "Liv," she said, gesturing at herself emphatically.

The orc pointed a large finger at her. "Liv?"

Liv nodded, then pointed at him in return, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

The orc gestured at himself and said, "Morek."

"Morek," she repeated, noticing the slight twitch of his lips, presumably at her pronunciation of his name. "Yes, well, let's see you speak common without an accent, Sir Know-It-All."

Morek pulled the spit out of the fire with his bare hands and carved off a piece of cooked meat with his belt knife, offering it to Liv. She accepted with a nod, then examined the meat cautiously before taking a nibble. It was some kind of game, of that she was certain. Perhaps meat from a kodo, which she'd never tried. It wasn't unpleasant, but it would not be her first choice at a meal, at least not unseasoned as it was now. It would serve for their present circumstances. Watching the orc, she ate in small bites, taking her time to chew thoroughly. Morek, it seemed, didn't need to chew his food so much before he swallowed. He used those large, sharp fangs on his bottom jaw to help him rip flesh from bone, which he chewed once or twice before swallowing and going for another bite.

In the time it took the rogue to finish her small piece, the orc finished the rest of the meat, leaving no leftovers. Once he was done licking the grease from his fingers, Liv stood and stepped towards him, meaning to look at his wounds. The orc reacted instinctively, grabbing her and spinning her around so that her arm was pinned behind her. She waited to see what he would do next, her free hand ready to grab at a dagger if he decided to try and kill her now. After a tense moment that seemed to go on forever, he released her with a mumbled word that might have been an apology.

Turning, Liv glared at Morek. "I need to look at your wounds," she told him, gesturing at the bandages that wrapped around his torso. Then she pointed at the bed. "Now, sit."

Looking ashamed, the orc shuffled to the bed and sat obediently like a child caught in wrongdoing. He tensed when she drew near and remained taut as she removed his bandages, her calloused fingers very gentle as she worked. She inspected the stitches to make sure none had come out, then reapplied the salve while he watched, his hands gripping his knees. When she was finished, she wrapped fresh bandages around him, feeling his eyes on her as she did so. The cabin suddenly felt much smaller that it had before, and she was acutely aware of how close they were. Details she hadn't paid much attention to earlier were suddenly at the forefront of her mind, like how broad his shoulders were, how muscled his torso was, how strong and large his hands were. The rogue finished with his bandage and sat back quickly, finding it difficult to breathe. What was wrong with her? Had it truly been so long since she'd tumbled someone that she would consider tumbling an orc? Or was it his scent, a heavy, musky smell, that made her skin quiver? Perhaps it was both, and perhaps it was that look he kept giving her, that look that told her he was still trying to understand her.

"Liv?" he asked in his low, rumbling voice. She'd been staring at him, her cheeks flushed, for several silent moments.

The woman cleared her throat. "Sorry. I just...you're very distracting."

The orc blinked at her.

Liv sighed. "At least I don't have to worry about being eloquent with you." Reaching out, she trailed her fingers down one of his arms, tracing a long, jagged scar. "I wish you could tell me how you got this, and all your scars. Oh, and how you got hurt last night."

He responded, perhaps holding a conversation with himself as she was doing. Liv gave him a tiny smile. "This is unconventional, to say the least." Suddenly, she realized her hand had trailed back up his arm and now rested on his chest, her palm feeling the flex of muscle as he shifted on the bed. She didn't realize he'd moved to make room for her until he dragged her over to sit next to him, triggering a defensive reflex. She had a dagger to his throat before she realized what she was doing, then she slowly pulled it away as she settled next to him on the bed. "Don't grab me so suddenly," she scolded him, returning the blade to its sheath. Then, she laughed, remembering he'd just done the same to her moments before.

Morek shook his head, looking amused. The words he said could have been, "see? You have reactions, too." Then he took her hand, holding it palm-up and tracing along one of her own scars. When he reached the end of it, he tapped her palm with his fingertip and looked at her with raised eyebrows.

"Hand," she supplied, thinking he was asking for what it was called.

His fingers moved up to her forearm, where he tapped her again.

"Arm." Her voice came out a little breathy, thinking she knew where this little game was headed.

He paused at the crook of her arm, tapping the outside of her elbow, then her shoulder, with her telling him the name of each as he went. Then his fingers stroked her neck, his callouses drawing a shiver from her as they rubbed over her sensitive flesh. He murmured a word, his voice soft and inquisitive.

"Neck," she told him, her voice barely louder than a breath.

He trailed a single fingertip down, resting just below her collarbone.

"Chest." Her green eyes met his blue, and she saw a new question there. Did she want to continue? Somehow, she knew that if she pushed him away, he would stop. She felt warm all over as excitement filled her. It was as though she had known her answer back in the tree when she decided to help him.

Planting her hands on his shoulders, she guided him back until he was lying down on her collapsed bed. His hands moved away from her, perhaps because he thought she was saying no, but she grabbed them and put them so that he was gripping her sides. He watched her as she trailed her fingers down his chest, finding each new scar and tracing it, feeling the jagged lines. She took care not to disturb his bandages as her hands trailed ever lower.

"I don't want to rupture your stitches," she explained in an oddly breathy voice as she got down to his belt. "I'm sure you orcs have your own way of doing things, with biting and hair pulling, but you'll have to do with this for now." She watched his face as she undid the buckle, waiting, as he did, to see any sign of dissent. This sort of thing was only fun if both participants were willing. His eyes flicked from her hands up to her face, then he grinned.

In a matter of moments, she had him stripped down to his underthings. Then, she hesitated, feeling suddenly apprehensive. The only men she'd been with had been human, and none were nearly so tall or broad as Morek. Judging by the outline of his arousal, he was larger than them in other ways, too. Her attention shifted when he tugged at her leather jerkin, as if to say "this is hardly fair, you're still fully dressed!"

"Oh, right." She felt flustered. Her hands trembled as she worked at the laces on her jerkin. Seemingly taking pity on her, Morek reached up to help, his large hands surprisingly deft as he unlaced and pushed the jerkin off her shoulders. Her undershirt and breast band soon followed, leaving her bare from the waist up. The orc's eyes fell to her naked chest, taking in her small breasts with great interest. His hands slid up her sides, then his thumbs were caressing the tight peaks of her breasts, his calluses sending shivers down her spine. An involuntary gasp escaped her, making him smirk.

"Let's see how you like it, then," she told him teasingly. Her hand trailed over his straining loincloth, feeling the pulsing length beneath it. Morek groaned, his hands tightening ever so slightly on her sides. "Been a while for you too, hm?" Then she eased down his sole remaining garment, freeing him.

As she had suspected, he was larger than the other men she'd had. Just like the rest of him, his manhood was green, and even had a jagged scar running its length. Liv gripped him and stroked up and down slowly, enjoying the feel of him in her hand. "I wish you could tell me the story of _that_ scar, at least," she told him as he bared his teeth in seeming enjoyment.

He let her tease him a few moments longer before he was undoing her belt and trying to push down her own pants. Reluctantly, she let him go, but only for as long as it took to wiggle out of her remaining clothes. As soon as that was done, she had her hand around him again, stroking him as beads of clear liquid oozed from him in his excitement.

Liv was enjoying herself immensely just stroking him and watching as his chest heaved and his teeth bared. It seemed, however, that he wasn't going to let her have all the fun. He slid a hand under her, his fingers feeling her slick arousal as they gently explored. One large fingertip found her most sensitive spot and rubbed against it, slowly circling and flicking against it in turn. Liv shivered and gasped, her hips bucking against his hand. He chuckled low in his chest.

"I see your point," she panted, taking her hand away. "No more wasting time, then." Morek responded in Orcish again, his voice husky. Liv tugged his hand away, then shifted herself forward, standing on her knees to align him to her. Then, she was taking him inside her, feeling herself stretching around him as her dripping arousal eased his passage. His hands gripped her hips, helping ease her down until she was at his base, quivering around him as he throbbed within her.

With her hands braced on his shoulders and his hands on her hips, Liv worked her thigh muscles to ease herself up and down upon him, slowly at first. The orc growled and gnashed his teeth, but his grip never became too painful and he never tried to turn them over. She found herself gradually going faster, feeling him pressing against the most pleasurable places inside her with each thrust, making her back arch and her breath come in ragged gasps. All her muscles were tensing, making her feel as taut as a coiled spring as her climax edged nearer.

Before she could peak, Morek thrust his hips up into her as he erupted inside her, his chest heaving like a bellows as he roared his pleasure. Liv reveled in it, enjoying the sight of his ecstasy and knowing it was she who had caused it. When the moment passed, he lay panting beneath her, his eyes closed. Liv lifted herself off and curled up against him, feeling their combined juices seeping out of her. If anything, that aroused her more, but the orc was spent.

Morek cracked an eye open to look at her. "Liv," he murmured, circling an arm around her back.

"Morek," she replied, unable to resist smiling. Then, she felt his other hand between her legs, a finger slipping inside her as his thumb teased her most sensitive area. Within moments, she was bucking against him, her walls pulsing around his finger, and her own cries filling the small cabin.

Sometime later, she returned to awareness, pressed against her orc lover, who seemed to be sleeping quietly. Liv stretched languidly within the circle of his arms, then looked down to make sure she didn't see any blood on his bandages. Luckily, it didn't look like their trysting had upset his stitches. She sighed and rested her head on his chest.

"I may not be a healer," she told the sleeping orc quietly. "But I can mend just about anyone without using magic. It might take longer and hurt more, but I can do it." Her fingers traced one of his scars idly as she spoke. She wasn't sure why all the words suddenly came tumbling out, but once they started, she didn't want to stop them.

"My father is a paladin, you know. A high-ranking officer. My mother is a high priestess. My three older brothers and one of my older sisters followed in my father's footsteps. Only one older sister followed in mother's, and my younger brother. All of them are healers, and in high demand. I even have nephews acting as squires for paladins, and nieces apprenticing in the Cathedral of Light." Her fingers stilled and she laid her hand flat on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "I tried, when I was younger. I tried to make the magic come, but it never did. I practiced every day, even going so far as to hurt myself to see if I could heal it." She swallowed hard before she could continue.

"My mother taught me everything I know about healing. I can keep someone alive until we can get to a real healer, so long as they aren't too badly hurt. I can even make antidotes to poison and poultices to ease severe burns. But despite all that, I could never be a paladin knight or a great priestess." Liv blinked. Surely those weren't tears in her eyes. She had made peace with this long ago, or so she thought.

"They were so disappointed when I was apprenticed to SI:7," she went on. "I was the only one in the family not following the Light. It didn't seem to matter to them how many times I had tried, they didn't think I tried hard enough. Nothing I did ever made up for it, not even when I brought home enough coin to buy a manor large enough for my entire family with rooms to spare. They moved in, but still tried to convince me to convert, as if it were my choice that I couldn't summon any power."

Liv fell quiet for a moment, remembering how fiercely she had wept after that fight. The pain was still there, a dull ache in her chest. "I've done the best I could with the skills I have. I just wish it were enough."

Morek shifted, and Liv looked up to see that he was watching her. He said something, but she couldn't imagine what it was this time.

"This is stupid," she murmured darkly. "Getting involved with someone who can't even understand me. What was I thinking?"

The orc said something again, then gently shifted her so that he could rise from the bed. "Where are you going?" she asked warily. "You're too weak to leave yet."

Morek didn't answer. He went over to her workstation and bent down, examining her tools. Then, he pulled a small device out of his ear and began working on it with a few of her smaller, more delicate tools. After a few moments, he examined the device in the firelight and returned it to his ear. All the while, Liv watched him, her mouth hanging open.

The next time he spoke, his voice seemed warbled at first, but then she could _understand_ him. "This got broken back in Booty Bay," he told her in his deep, rumbling voice. "I could understand you, but you must have only heard Orcish. Finicky things, these are."

"You're an engineer?" Liv spluttered when she found her voice again.

Morek grinned. "Didn't think the big, stupid orc could make anything so complex?"

"That's not- You should have fixed that earlier!"

Morek shrugged. "I was enjoying myself. You seemed to be, too."

A hot blush rose in Liv's cheeks. "All...all that I said...about my family…"

The orc regarded her as he returned to the bed and eased himself back down. "What of it?"

"You...you heard it all?"

"Mm-hmm." As he lay back down, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.

"I suppose you'll call me weak," she muttered, not resisting his embrace.

"No," he said simply.

"And why not?"

"You found your strength," he said with a one-armed shrug. "And you had to be strong to get me here, away from those scavengers."

Liv mulled this over for a while. "You do weigh a lot, you know. And you're very strange for an orc."

She felt him chuckle. "Maybe your view of orcs has been wrong."

They talked a while longer, and Liv lost track of time. They dozed, and when they woke, they trysted again, and this time she could understand every word he moaned.

But their time together could not last, and they both knew it. Aside from food stores running low, Liv had to report back to Stormwind, and Morek had to return to the Horde, wherever that was. They were both quiet as they cleaned up and packed their things, put out the fire, and readied to go.

Together, they left, staving off the ghouls with the last of the meat. When they were safely on the road, each destined for a different direction, they stared at each other for a long time. In his rent and broken armor, Morek looked different from the warm, naked orc she'd known in her bed. He looked almost like any other orc she'd find and kill in the battlefield, except for those eyes she had come to love in so short a time.

He took her hands in his. "I am not the best with words," he told her in a gruff voice. "But I hope I will see you again, and not as enemies."

"Not as enemies," Liv agreed, staring hungrily up at him. Would they ever meet again? Without thinking, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, uncaring that his two large bottom teeth were pressing uncomfortably against her face. He kissed her back, hesitant at first, then matching her intensity and fervor. Far too soon, they broke apart. "Remember me," she whispered, forcing herself to take a step back.

"I shall never be able to forget. I promise you that, Liv." He stepped back, too. They were each edging backwards, gazing at each other for as long as they could.

At last, unable to bear dragging it out anymore, Liv got on her motorbike and rode away, leaving him behind her, possibly forever.

* * *

Days later, Liv sat at Stormwind Harbor, watching the waves crash against the nearby cliffs. Luckily, nothing had happened at Moonbrook after she left, but her absence was noticed when her replacement did not find her where she was supposed to be. Her superiors were still unsatisfied with the half-truths she gave them about her disappearance, but they were appeased enough not to throw her into the stockades as a traitor. It would likely be weeks before they put her on assignment again, though.

"And what are you doing here, Olivia? Don't you have work?" A night elf huntress was approaching her, a pale sabertooth cat at her heels. The elf's long, silvery braid fluttered in the sea breeze.

"Not anymore," she answered, trying to smile. "And I told you, call me Liv. Only my parents call me Olivia."

Moriene the huntress smiled. "Ah, it's hard for me to remember. You'll have to forgive me, I'm very old."

That made Liv laugh. Her nickname for Moriene had been "granny" when they had worked together in the days directly after Deathwing's attacks. Their group of skilled survivalists had braved the worst of the destruction to search for anyone who was trapped in the wreckage. They had saved many lives together, but they had also buried more people than Liv could count.

Moriene sat next to her and gazed out at the horizon. "I heard the story you gave the other rogues." When Liv did not reply, she added, "What really happened out there?"

Liv didn't answer right away. She didn't know how much she could trust this night elf. Yes, they had worked together, and Liv had mended a broken arm Moriene had gotten, but would she consider them friends? No, it was too risky.

"It was as I told them," she said at last. "I fell ill and went into hiding until I was better."

"In a one-room cabin with a broken bed?"

Liv's insides went cold. She slowly turned her head to look at the huntress.

Moriene gave her a small smile. "They asked me to track where you'd gone, and investigate if your story matched the evidence."

The rogue had to swallow a few times before she could speak again. "And what did you tell them?"

"Nothing, yet. I'm due to speak with them this afternoon." She watched Liv thoughtfully for a moment, then dug a necklace out from under her mail. "You see this?"

It appeared to be coarse red threads braided in a loop on a leather thong. "What of it?"

"This was given to me by my love." She returned the necklace to its hiding place. "He is a troll."

Surely she hadn't heard that right. "A...troll?"

Moriene nodded serenely. "It is difficult, but we love each other, and so we find a way." Her pale, glowing eyes stared into Liv's eyes, practically into her soul. "Am I right in thinking we are similar?"

"I...well...he...he's an orc, and...I don't know...if it's love, or…" Her stuttering fell into silence.

The huntress reached into a belt pouch and drew out a small device, placing it on the rogue's knee. It was a twin to the translation device Morek had worn in his ear, though smaller to fit in her own ear. She picked it up and turned it over in trembling fingers.

"My troll told me that Morek turned up in his camp, wearing broken armor and fresh bandages," Moriene said quietly. "He claimed to have healed himself, but my love knows that he has no knowledge of healing. Once he got the truth, he contacted me so I could make sure you were safe, and to deliver a message from your orc."

Her eyes were suddenly stinging. She couldn't bring herself to look at the huntress when she said, "A message?"

Carefully, the elf plucked the device from her hands and settled it into the rogue's ear. Then, her voice took on a deeper, more guttural quality as she rasped a few words in Orcish, words that Liv could now understand. "I shall never forget."

She had no response. Her hands balled up into fists in her lap as she tried not to weep for the orc she missed so sorely, yet barely knew.

The huntress got to her feet and gently squeezed her shoulder. "If it is love, then you will find each other again. I know it. If you want my help, all you need to do is ask." And then she was gone, padding silently back towards the city with her sabertooth at her heels.

Liv watched the horizon, tears streaming down her cheeks. _If it is love, then we'll find each other again_, she thought, adjusting the tiny device to sit more comfortably in her ear. _I shall never forget, Morek._


End file.
